


April Is the Cruelest Month

by blackhorseandthecherrytree



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhorseandthecherrytree/pseuds/blackhorseandthecherrytree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Shiva comes to Gotham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	April Is the Cruelest Month

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, or Lady Shiva. *sob*

 

* * *

 

The woman at Table 32 speaks perfect French, but is not French. She also speaks perfect Russian, Italian, and Thai. The waiter knows the second two from experience, the first and last because he is also Thai, although always a Frenchman. This is why he ensures the woman at Table 32 never has to wait for her daily order.  

He stands at crisp attention before his fellow expatriate to see if she is in need of anything else. Some days she is ravenous; others she is leisurely. The newspaper unfolds with a snap.

“Thank you, Gregory,” she says, coldly distant and beautiful. He had not realized she knew his name. “I will wish to speak to you after I finish my meal.”

He bows and departs.

When she leaves, she will kiss him on the cheeks, twice. Her lips will be cold, and her ring will bite into his skin. She isn't going to be coming back, she will say, and that is a pity. He makes excellent gafe yen.

Hours later, people will wonder. He was such a young man. It seems so strange for one such as him to die of a heart attack.

 

* * *

  
Shiva owes a dead man a favor.

_Dreams are rare in Gotham_ , he’d said.  _Hopes are few. Our children don’t plan for the future because they don’t believe there will be one. So it is us, the old, who must plan for them._

She is looking for his successor, and she will know her by her rage.

 

* * *

  
  
Cain’s daughter is quick and wary. She has spotted Shiva, once or twice. Another time, Shiva would challenge Saint Michael without a thought; but Shiva’s purpose is not with Gotham’s defender. No. Her purpose is with the girl, the one the angel keeps on a leash.

The girl knows she is on a leash. She restrains herself for the sake of the one who holds it. She knows that she can achieve more by her side. She knows she is needed.

The anger still aches and bleeds in her bones.

Shiva smiles.

 

* * *

  
  
It’s a paltry distraction. Some twenty people in danger, a madman with a bomb. It’s more practical for the angel to save the innocents while the murderer talks down the terrorist.

Shiva waits and watches. When the time is right, she makes her entry.

The purple-clad child whips her head around. “Who the hell are you?” she demands.

Shiva makes a long, graceful leap over some of the wreckage. She ignores her interrogator, coming to a stop before the person she wishes to speak with and giving a congratulatory slant of the eyebrows.

Cain’s child is a question mark.

Shiva makes herself declarative.

Cain remains interrogative. The civilians, the victims.

Shiva is passionless.

The girl becomes fierce bolds and underscores.

Shiva displays amusement.

It takes a thought’s breath for her daughter to make a decision, and it is fearsome. They dance.

 

* * *

 

All the while, the girl who rages is watching.

 


End file.
